Turning of a Malfoy
by EleMaBa
Summary: Draco Malfoy has grown up regurgitating everything he has heard from his father. And he plans to continue that life with ease until he sees an especially brillaint girl who he can't quite get out of his head. Hermione Granger may be the downfall of Draco as we know it. DMHG pairing.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Draco Malfoy had never been particularly warm. He was cold in every sense of the word. His pale blonde hair and his porcelain skin gave off an appearance that was harsh and unfeeling, a replica of his father, Lucius Malfoy. Growing up in Malfoy Manor ensured he would be as cool and ominous as his father, the cold marble floors and nasty portraits did not convey a feeling of home, more of isolation. So from the start of his life, many could have assumed he would not be the most feeling of people, and as he grew, suspicions would only have been confirmed. Even Draco himself knew that he was not like the other children. Although he had been play mates with Pansy Parkinson for years, as a toddler, he never failed to make her cry, albeit with a harsh insult, or by refusing to giver her back her things.

No one would have guessed that out of all the students at Hogwarts he had no problem bullying, that she, Hermione Granger, a mudblood of all people, supplying him with ample ammunition, would have been the chink in his armor. Her hair, her snobbish opinions, her parentage, her teeth, everything about her made her a target, and yes he did taunt her, as Draco did to all the others, but she was different, He refused to acknowledge it, but he always felt a hitch in his breath when he called her a mudblood. Always felt that small voice, nibbling at the back of his consciousness. Always to be quashed before any words could be uttered, but nonetheless, it was still there, struggling to speak.


	2. The Beginning

**Chapter 1**

Narcissa Malfoy hugged her son tight, sending him off on his first year to Hogwarts, the school where she fell in love with Draco's father. Tears brimming in her eyes, she whispered to him how she loved him and would check in to make sure he took care of himself. She had always had a soft spot for her son out of all the aspects of her life. Yes, she loved her husband, and was devoted to the Dark Lord, but her son was the one thing she could never stand to let harm befall.

"Yes yes mother, alright. As you wish. Now, let's not draw this out, hug me any longer and the express will leave without me."

Draco looked at his mother, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. She looked at him and told him she was so proud and loved him, her eyes expectant. Draco looked at her, as if pleading to not have to say it, lest someone overhear him. She looked at him, unfaltering. He managed to mumble under his breath, "I love you too, Mother", with his pale cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink. "Now I really must be off!"

Narcissa sighed and pecked him on the cheek. "Mother, please!", he pleaded, embarrassment shining through his cool outer shell.

Narcissa regained her cool, managing to smooth a look of distinguished grace over her face. "Yes now Draco, you're right. Have a lovely year. Off you go now." The edges of Draco's mouth threatened to turn up into the slightest of smiles as he walked away from his mother. Draco would not genuinely smile for weeks after that, all he would be doing is jeering at other "less pure" students and smirking, because up the walls went, he refused to let a single person see through his carefully constructed façade of ruthless prejudice.

The air was thick with fear, and excitement on the Hogwarts Express. Draco could feel it in his every bone, he knew that he would be sorted into the prestigious house, Slytherin, the house of his father, his father's father, and so on. Yet, he still felt a small nagging fear in the back of his mind, but just as he was about to give the dimmest amount of possible light to the matter in his thoughts, he saw the flash of red hair. This should be fun.

"Hey! You!", he yelled, oblivious to all the heads that turned due to his outburst. Then, with uncanny synchronization, all heads turned to a rattily dressed boy down the aisle with a shock of red hair and freckles sprinkled across his cheeks, leading to a resemblance of a night sky. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He quickly realized this and tried to recover from his little faux pas by bringing a look of anger, and pride to his face, but not before all the students saw his look of surprise. He had clearly not had as much practice as Draco, as his face was twisted into a cringe that could only be described as someone in desperate need of the loo.

Draco ambled towards him, emulating confidence and haughtiness that only a Malfoy could possess. "Hmmm...Let's see. Threadbare robes, worn trunk, and shabby secondhand books, you must be a Weasley! The finest blood traitors of all!"

Draco of course knew him, and his blood traitor status. Ronald Weasley, he had seen him a few times at Diagon alley, shopping in the second hand bookstore, of course not Flourish and Blott's. Draco could tell his words had knocked the boy aback, surely a painful blow. His voice dripped with a serrated kind of sarcasm, and everyone could hear it.

"Maybe, just maybe, if you're not too much of a bother this year, I could donate my old books to you once the year is over", Draco chatted, murder in his eyes. "After all, you Weasleys will need it, always breeding like rats. Any new blood traitors joining you this year?"

The boy was clearly dumbfounded. At a loss of words, he looked like he could punch Draco, but of course never would. He half expected Weasley to run off crying, but instead, he just managed to mutter a weak, 'Sod off, Malfoy," before he shoved his way through the other incoming students, with haste.

"Draco, I heard what you said to that Weasley boy. Quite a thick git that one is. It was very amusing. Are you nervous to be sorted?"

"Pansy, of all people, do you have any doubt that I will be sorted into Slytherin, the house of my ancestors?" Draco bit back, with a snap in his words. He never would say it to anyone, but he did have the smallest of nagging fears in the back of his mind about it. Pansy's face fell, and she frowned at her lap.

"Well Draco no, that's not what I meant, I was just sayi-"

"Does it really matter, Pansy?" Draco interrupted, a tired and taunting tone seeping into his words. Crabbe and Goyle snickered in the booth across the compartment. Draco shot them a deathly glare and they too fell silent. Pansy sighed and tried to bring a look of cheer to her face, but anyone could have seen trough the thinly veiled attempt to look unfazed by Draco's biting remark. She decided to try again and this time struck a more pleasant topic.

"Draco, someone told me that you're getting a new Nimbus 2000 from your father, is that true?" Pansy asserted, a slight uneasiness to her words. Draco smiled at her, his mouth turned up in what should have been a cheerful gesture, yet his eyes remained cold and harsh. However, his interest did peak with the opportunity to brag of his father's success and wealth.

"Well yes of course it is, Pansy. Father's recently struck a deal with some goblins in a trading company from Germany, raising the worth of the company to an even higher figure. I always update my broom to the newest model, as should any distinguished and dedicated Quidditch player. Maybe I'll even donate my old one to a Weasley. If I'm lucky, he'll fall off and snap his neck." Pansy giggled at this remark, Zabini snickered, and Crabbe and Goyle howled with laughter.

Just as the laughter began to die down, the Honeydukes sweet trolley came rolling by, and didn't stop at their compartment. "That old bat missed us again" Draco scowled and yelled out. "Oi! You! Sweets lady." She turned around and gave a warm smile.

"Hello! Sorry about that. Anything of the trolley, dears?"

Malfoy frowned and said, "No. I just wanted to stop you for no good reason and NOT get any candy." His voice was reminiscent of the same harsh sarcasm he used on Weasley. The old woman looked at him confused, clearly not understanding the joke. He scowled at her. "Whatever. I won't waste my breath on you. I'll take all the candy you've got." The cheery woman's smile turned to a look of bemusement.

"But dear, then the other children won't have anything!"

She was met by a scowl and a scoff from Malfoy. "And…er…why would I care?" Malfoy had always had a desire to undermine any authority whatsoever, except for of course his noble father. The woman's face fell into a tight-lipped smile, and she contemplated giving him the entire lot. He could see the cogs turning in her mind and deciding to undermine her once again, he coughed quite loudly, clearly gesturing for her to make up her mind. Malfoy knew this would turn out how all his other conquests to overturn authority he did not see fit. He knew he would get the candy.

McGonagall opened her thin lips to shout out the next name to be sorted. "Harry Potter."

Draco was taken aback by the name, as the wiry young boy walked up to the stool to get sorted. Harry Potter? Here? How had he not heard of this? Draco knew he had to befriend this boy. The boy had his eyes closed and was quite clearly muttering something. Was it…Slytherin? Oh this was fantastic he wanted to be a Slytherin, this greatly increased Draco's chances of getting close to him. The hat looked just about ready to make a decision.

'GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed. Draco's hopes fell and he scowled to the floor. Well, any Gryffindor was obviously not worth scum; after all, bravery is just a kinder word for stupidity. Well it was decided; his chances with Harry were over. No, he couldn't call him Harry. It would have to be Potter. The next few names went by quickly, when one piques his interest.

"Hermione Granger." That was peculiar, a name he had not heard before. It was…beautiful. Draco's face softened at the mention of the name, and then a very beautiful young witch walked up to the stool. Yes, her hair could use improvement, but he had never seen a face so delicate. It appeared as if someone touched it with too much force, it would crack, like a precious porcelain. Oh he knew he should not care where she was sorted, but he was so hoping for a new beautiful face for Slytherin, namely her. Yes, he knew Pansy herself was quite pretty, but this, this Hermione girl was a different kind of pretty. It felt like if someone looked too fast they would miss it, she was beautiful, not pretty. Draco could feel the edges of his mouth threatening to curl up into a smile, not a sneer for once. He could just look at her forev-

"GRYFFINDOR!" Oh. Oh okay. Draco's face did genuinely fall, and at the same time her face curled up into a smile of pure ecstasy. He noticed the way her teeth were very big and did not quite suit her face, but he thought it was cute in a way. No. No he could not let himself do this. Why would he even fancy a girl who wanted to be a Gryffindor?

Crabbe leaned over to Malfoy, and whispered in his ear, "Well of course the Gryffindor lot would take that little mudblood." Mudblood? She was a mudblood. Draco wanted so bad to hate her now. But for the first time, he had to hold back a cringe at hearing that word. He had heard it from his Aunt Bella hundreds of time, and hadn't even blinked, but somehow, hearing that word attached to her name, felt strange. Well no matter. She was a mudblood, and a Gryffindor. He would have nothing to do with her. No matter what.

He nudged Crabbe and muttered, "Thank Merlin that filthy mudblood didn't disgrace the Slytherin name." Somehow the words just came to him, like a reflex, as he had said nasty things about peers for years. Draco did not like the fact that he saw her as beautiful. So he tried not to, and failed. So he decided just to not look at her. It was difficult.


	3. The Troll

"TROOOOOOOLLLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON! Just thought you oughta know."

Silence fell for a second, as the students proccessed what Professor Quirrell had just said. The entire great hall exploded into ruckus. Draco's mind erupted into millions of thoughts. The only instinct of his was self preservation. He was planning out where he could go, how long he could stay, and whether or not he would be safe there, all thoughts moving at a mile a minute. Then, the most peculiar thing happened; one single word popped into his head, a name he had managed to supress for months. Hermione. He tried to push it down, but this time he failed miserably. Like a chanting crowd at a Quidditch match, it got louder and louder, more fierce and aggressive with every repeat. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Soon, he heard it pulsing in his brain, threatening mutiny, moving in time with the thud of his racing heart. Draco thought he might be sick, until he was interrupted by a commandng bellow.

"SIIILLEEENNNCCEEE! Everyone will please, not panic. Prefects, lead your house back to the dormitories. Teachers, will follow me to the dungeon." Well then it was decided. He scanned the crowd for Cyril Meakin, member of a quite prestigious pureblood family and son of one of his father's business associates. Knowing it was not his place to spew any insults in front of a seventh year, he kept his mouth shut and decided to direct his energy to silencing the pulsing voice in his mind, as it was causing him a headache. Slowly, but still surely, the screaming in his brain faded into a weak din. He liked to think it was because he didn't care for the little mudblood and it was just a freak occurrence. He decided to ignore the fact that he now knew that she was safe in her dorm. Because _obviously_ if he ignored something then it wasn't true.

The commotion had slowly died down, but it was not yet silent in the sterling and emerald themed common room. Prefects urged many of the younger students to stay quiet, but the excitement of the night ensured there was always a din of noise buzzing in the room, making it feel as if it was alive. Draco, knowing his intelligence was superior to those of his peers, decided to wait by the portrait and see if he could hear any conversations amongst teachers. Information is power, and Draco was determined to have power. He heard Professor McGonagall passing by and that other Weasley, he had not been as bad as the other blood traitors in his family, but he still did not like him. Percival was his name.

"How could you LOSE three students?" He had never heard McGonagall's voice so shrill.

"Well... I... er...um.. well they just didn't come along they purposely left the group!" Percy stammered out, surely being met by a deathly stare form Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Weasley, I truly do hope no harm befalls Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, and your own _brother!"_ Draco's mind flooded with one word. Hermione. Hermione. HERMIONE. The buzz of thoughts in his head rose to a deafening racket, and Draco knew this did not bode well for him. As awlays, he suppressed his emotion, and kept a straight face. _God, what would he do if Hermione was killed, and by a troll at that, the ugliest lowloest creatures on this Earth, in his opinion. No he couldn't do this. He was a Malfoy, a prestigious pureblood. He would be fine, because Granger was just a filthy little undeserving mudblood. And he hoped that she got at least nice whallop over the head from the troll's club. Yes, that was exactly what he hoped._ Now the raucous cries in his head for a girl he had only ever spoken to with an insult, had settled, like silt sinking to the bottom of a river. Draco once again felt cool throughout his core, like he had always done, mimicking the chilled polished marble of the place he had spent his formative years in. He was once again himself. Draco, the colorless drained boy, who never had a nice word to say. His bleak hair and silver eyes were a perfect match for the dull grays surrounding him in the common room. Draco had the quick flash of a thought, the kind that if he didn't look with enough haste, it would pass him right by. He thought that maybe this wasn't where he wanted to be. Maybe he wanted to be with someone colorful. Surrounded by happiness. Rather than sullen faces and sneers. Maybe he didn't want to contribute to all that haughtiness. But it was only a maybe. And Draco intended to keep it that way.

Draco slept that night uneasily, but he still slept. And he definitely needed the rest, he had spent too much time worrying about that stupid little girl that didn't even matter. He stalked into the great hall, Crabbe and Goyle in tow, with his trademark Malfoy scowl that morning. And even though he hated himself for noticing, after he allowed his eyes to dart over to the Gryffindor table and found Hermione, he found it a bit easier to glare at her and ridicule her.

"Heard you lot tried to fight a troll!" He remarked towards the trio, his voice dripping with condescension. Draco then pantomimed a derogatory impression of Ron crying, and Goyle pretended to be the troll. Hermione rolled her eyes, and Draco felt a small pang of embarrassment, but pushed it down.

"Goyle, you do a bloody fantastic impression of a troll. Probably because you look so much like one!", Potter said. Weasley nearly spit out his food and Hermione tried to stifle a giggle. Damn. Draco had always known that Potter was smarter than his blood traitor friend, but didn't think he would say anything smart enough to be funny. He had to think quickly if he was going to avoid being made to look like a fool by Potter, no less.

"Oh, I see Potter is trying to be funny. Just like his old father. Maybe if we're lucky, he'll end up like his dad too." Good. Draco thought he did pretty well, he let his eyes drift over to Hermione, but they were met with a look that emanated pure disdain. He felt his heart tick, and sneered at her with his trademark Malfoy pride. It was only a matter of seconds before Potter was standing up, ready for a fight. And Draco was ready to give it to him.

"My father was twice the man yours could ever be!", he said as his hand reached down, hovering above his wand. Draco knew to meet this with his usual mocking approach.

"Oh look, Potter's whining about his poor dead dad. Well at least my dad is alive, and didn't marry a... mud blood." Draco let the silence hang in the air before he said it, letting his eyes wander towards Granger, showing her that she was not welcome in this school, or world for that matter. Potter lunged to Draco, wand at the ready, Hermione screamed for him to stop.

"Harry, no! He's pathetic and he's just egging you on. Come on you know it, don't let him win. That's just what he wants." Harry heard her, but ignored her and started to mutter a spell before Hermione came in between him and Malfoy and pushed them apart. "NO! STOP!", she screamed.

"You filthy little mud blood get your grubby hands off of me!", Draco shouted as he recoiled from her surprisingly warm touch. Draco stalked off, fuming, but he could still hear the whispers of comfort to Hermione as his back was turned. _Why had she tried to protect him? No. She wasn't. She just wanted to save her precious "Harry" from getting hurt. What a petulant little girl. He was disgusted._


	4. The Moment

Draco had been working very hard recently at keeping rogue thoughts at bay. With his success, came some unsavory consequences. Every muscle in his body tensed the second he passed by her. She had really grown into her voice, making it sounds like chimes whenever she spoke. She radiated a scent of pumpkin juice and vanilla. Why? He couldn't figure out. But all he knew was that she emanated warmth and happiness, something that would give him a feeling like he was going to be sick every time she passed. _Merlin, Hermione had really grown into herself over the summer._ Her hair had slightly calmed, and her teeth were less garish than he had remembered.

After all that nonsense with the Basilisk, Draco was more than happy to start a new year, hopefully one with Potter not trying to make every aspect of his miserable life so dramatic and public. But then, before they even arrived at Hogwarts he had to go and throw himself in front of a dementor. _How weak and pitiful._ Draco knew that he would have to take the opportunity to mock him. Such a pathetic whiner deserved it. When he saw Potter at the Gryffindor table with his depressing little gang, he seized his opportunity. "Oh no! It's a dementor! Mummy, save me!" he whined. "Potter? Is it true you fainted? I mean, you actually fainted?". A Slytherin boy next to him pantomimed a dramatic fainting, sending the other kids at his table off into fits of giggles.

"You know Draco, had you been in the same position, you would have done the same. Harry underwent something that only the foulest criminals ever have to. Those like your aunt", Hermione interjected. Draco's felt his thoughts darting through his mind. Half of him wanted to just listen to her sweet voice talk all day, but she disgraced his family name, something he carried with much pride. He knew what he had to do. Why did Hermione always do this. It pained him. It really did.

"Did I ask for a no good mudblood's opinion? Well either way, I'd rather have my family in jail for a good cause than be filthy undeserving muggles like yours." he spat back at her, feeling a deep ache in his stomach. Something he was quite familiar with by now. He knew what would happen next. A look of hurt would ambush her soft features, something that would always hit him with a pang of remorse. The she would try to cover it up, and fail. But then he could practically see the cogs turning in her head, ready to hit back at him. 'Twas a battle of wits with the smartest person he knew. He could only ever win because he would go farther than she would. He was ruthless, and she simply wasn't. _Lucky girl._

"Well...well... WELL AT LEAST MY PARENTS CARE ABOUT ME!" she blurted out, her pride victorious over her gentle nature. Draco was taken aback. A look of hurt flashed over his face, slipping out while his guard was down. He never knew Granger would take it this far. He quickly smoothed over his face with a still look, something he had seen his father do many times. Draco scanned the area to see if anyone had a glimpse through the chink in his armor. Looks of amusement engulfed the faces around him. On all but one. She had seen the true effects of her words, she knew that she had knocked him down, taken his pride. Of course it had to be _her,_ of all people. _Draco didn't even know why he had these stupid feelings. She was probably snogging Potter anyways, so it wasn't like she was available. Oh Merlin, that was an unpleasant image in his mind. She wasn't even worthy of his... affection. That damn girl. What was it about her that just drove him mad?!_

 _"_ Draco, I... I'm so-"

"I would rather have distant parents and a noble lineage than be descended from foul unworthy RATS, like you." Oh god. What had he done? Draco regretted the words the second they left his mouth, leaving a bad taste in their wake. Hermione looked like she had just been slapped. Draco had said some horrible things to some good people in his time, but even he knew that this was bad.

"MALFOY!" Weasley yelled. He and Potter put their arms around Hermione. Comforting her as she tried to hold tears in, Draco knew she would never cry in front of him. He felt so rejected in that moment, felt like he was a monster straight out of that damned Care of Magical Creatures class book. Of course he had to take it too far. It was in his nature. Draco could never be outdone, but this time it cost him something very valuable, that wasn't even his in the first place.

That night, as he lay in his bed with the kelly green sheets, Draco's mind wandered through the events of the day. He inevitably came to the encounter with Hermione. On a usual basis, he would steer his thoughts to something less worrying. However, he had made progress today, convinced his peers that he despised her. He indulged himself tonight, it had been a tough day. Draco conjured a mental image of Hermione, admiring her staggering beauty. He thought of every striking line of definition in her face, her soft rosy cheeks and her warm presence. He called to mind a Shakespeare quote, after all, William Shakespeare had been a very talented wizard and was an incredible writer.

"See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.

O that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek."

Draco refused to accept that he felt any kind of good will towards Hermione, but as he mumbled Shakespeare in reference to her that night, even he knew she was something special. But then he remembered his utter lack of a chance with her. He was Draco Malfoy, he called her parents rats and made her cry. He was a bully and a wretch. Hermione was also obviously in love with Potter. This was going to be a shitty year.

* * *

Some time had passed since the incident with Hermione, and Draco was no longer getting dirty looks every time he passed a Gryffindor in the corridors. But now he had to go to that class taught by that oaf, Hagrid. It was Draco's only class with Hermione and he hated it.

"Okay class, open your textbooks!", Hagrid shouted. _Ugh, what a buffoon._

"And exactly how do we DO that?", Draco jeered back at him, frustrated. This book had nearly bitten his hand clean off over the summer, so he was less than happy with having to use it. _Who even makes a monster book, anyways?_

"Well just stroke the spine, of course.", Hagrid replied. Draco tentatively ran his fingers down the furry spine of the book, feeling a bit on edge. He had gone weeks without any real confrontation with Potter, but today he just felt inexplicably like something big was going to happen. Neville Longbottom prematurely opened his book next to Draco, when it started mashing its "teeth" together, inches from Neville's face.

"Don't be such a wimp, Longbottom", he jeered out. Actually, Draco didn't really even mind Neville all that much. He did feel kind of bad for him, after all both his parents had gone insane because of Draco's aunt. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty.

From across the path, Draco heard Hermione say to Potter, "I think they're funny", in a very matter-of-fact tone. He knew things would just get worse if he said anything, but Draco's impulses bested his caution. He spoke.

"Oh yeah, terribly funny. Really witty. God, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my father hears that Dumbledore's got this _oaf_ teaching classes." Merlin. Every time he opened his mouth, he really did sound like a git. Hermione shot him an angry look, but he brushed it off, for once.

Potter came out from behind a horde of students, clearly upset. "Shut up, Malfoy." Draco knew what this meant. A fight. He ambled towards Potter, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. Honestly, Potter could probably beat him in a physical fight, but in a battle of the wits, Draco could emerge victorious. As Potter drew closer and closer, Draco realized he had no real plan. He refused to be embarrassed by Potter, however, not in front of her.

Thinking on his feet, Draco's face went ashen, his eyes widened and pointed to the sky, yelling, "Dementor! Dementor!" Stupid Potter looked back, eyes wide with terror, and Draco knew he had won. He yanked his robes hood up over his head, to mimic a dementor, Crabbe and Goyle followed in suit. After everyone stopped laughing, Draco pulled the damn thing off his head as fast as he could, it made him feel too much like a death eater, something he would rather avoid.

Soon, the buffoon called the class to order, introducing them to all kinds of furry beasts. Draco's least favorite was the Hiffogrip. _No. Hibbogriph? Agh, sod it. Did it even matter?_ Anyways, when the oaf asked if anyone was willing to come up, something just came over Draco. Some feeling washed over him, felt like a disillusionment charm, dripping down, covering him. _If Potter was even too scared, he could swoop in and be the brave one. Why did it even matter? It didn't._ However, by the time Draco had reached this conclusion, he was already shoving others out of his way as he confidently strode to the front, it was too late now, so he knew he had to go all in.

"Yeees. You're not dangerous at all, are you?" he spoke with conviction, thinking that if he spoke like it was true, maybe it would be. Before him, the creature stood towering over him, then it reared upwards. Draco froze. The only thing he could think to do was protect his face with his arm when that beast came crashing back down, slashing his forearm on it's way back down. Pain. _Pain._ **Pain.** Draco lay on the floor, writhing. He knew that he never had a very high tolerance for physical hurt, but didn't know it was this bad. "It's killed me, it's killed me!" he shouted. Oh Merlin. What kind of ninny would say that? Draco would, apparently. The giant clown tried to talk him down, told him it was only a scratch. But then, Hermione chimed in.

"Hagrid! He has to be taken to the hospital." _Why in the bloody hell would she care?_ Probably just trying to save that joke of a professor from facing even more consequences. _Or maybe not. Maybe she didn't want Draco to get hurt. Maybe._ The fool picked him up, carrying him off, bridal style.

"You're gonna regret this! You and your bloody chicken." Draco was serious about that. That damn thing made a fool of Draco in front of the whole class, something he wouldn't soon forget.

* * *

At the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey bandaged Draco's arm and set it in a cloth sling. He had been sentenced to bed rest over night. Damn woman. He didn't want his classmates to think of him as a wimp. On the other hand, it meant that his injury was serious and he hadn't overreacted. Later in the night, he heard light footsteps outside the gargantuan wooden doors framing the hospital wing. His eyes darted over to Madame Pomfrey's sleeping form, rising with each breath, her sharp features accentuated by the dim lantern light. The face he least expected to see that night surfaced in the archway. Hermione. Draco's thoughts exploded into questions. _What? Her? Why? What in the bloody hell?_ Hermione hurriedly walked over to Draco's bed. DRACO'S! He knew he had to say something, but he was just so dumbstruck, he let the words flow.

"G-granger? What in the bloody he-"

"Draco, I don't have time for this. I consider myself a generally moral person, and I say what I feel. If Harry or Ron knew I was here, they would be completely pissed, but I had to speak my mind. I have known you for four years now, and you have been nothing but a complete and utter git to me. However, I do not think it was your fault that you got hurt. I love Hagrid as I would a father, but he is not the most responsible of people." Draco was shocked. He had to use every bit of his strength to stay focused on what she was saying, and tried not to dwell on how well the dim light complemented her soft features and warm brown eyes.

"Well...er...Herm-Granger. Granger, I don't really kno-"

"For Merlin's sake Draco, it is three in the morning, I had to sneak out of my dorm for this, I will most likely be given away by the fat lady when I try to return, just say what you want to say, say it quickly, then forget I ever came to put this moral qualm to bed."

"Thank you, Granger. You're actually not as bad as your asshole friends." Draco could have sworn she stifled a giggle, but his mind could have been playing tricks on him. He considered saying goodnight, but figured he would be met with silence, and decided against it.

Draco had a bizarre feeling in his stomach. It seemed to be twisting into knots. He watched as Hermione stalked off, clearly pleased with herself. Her auburn curls bounced on her shoulders, and Draco couldn't help but to smile. He liked Hermione Granger. There was no more hiding it.

* * *

Draco watched the world in slow motion. Hermione Granger, running at him, murder clearly on her mind. He knew she would be upset when she heard, but even if he did like her, he couldn't let that dumb chicken hurt him like that with no consequences. "You! You fowl, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" Draco could hear the anger in her voice, but he was more worried about the fire in her eyes. He whimpered, her wand poking into his neck. He wanted to be strong, and brave, and pretend he wasn't scared, because he knew Hermione wouldn't hurt him. But on the other hand, he didn't. God, she hated him, She really did. He could hate her, he could easily hate her. He had hated her for a while. But why he had suddenly ceased to do so, was a mystery he had no answer to.

"Hermione, no! He's not worth it," he heard Weasley say. How dare that blood traitor even speak of him like that. If Hermione wanted to jinx Draco, she would. He stood there, a wand tip putting more and more pressure on his jugular, sniveling. _Why couldn't he stop?!_

Hermione slowly lowered her wand, turning away. Relieved, Draco started to laugh, Crabbe and Goyle mimicking him. Before he could rejoice for long, he say Hermione's hair whip around to her cheek as she abruptly turned on one foot. She lunged at him, punching him square in the face. The force of her punch knocked the back of his head into the boulder behind him. He heard a crack, assumed it was his nose. _Well, it could have also been his head._ Either way, he didn't want to stick around and suffer more abuse at the hands of a...a... a MUDBLOOD like her. He ran off, clutching his broken nose, determined to get out of sight before he let tears stream down his face. He was ashamed of crying, but a broken nose _fucking hurts._

* * *

Well it was Draco's second night in a row sleeping in the hospital wing. It wasn't even for the broken nose. Mild concussion. Thanks Hermione. He knew that he would have to catch up on his school work, so he tried to read through some of his transfiguration textbooks in the dull hospice lighting. Suddenly, his temple started to throb and he felt an immense pressure in his skull. He knew he was supposed to be resting, but he needed to stay ahead. Many assumed that Draco was such a bad boy and didn't care about his grades, however he had been working very hard to maintain good grades the whole year. No use in going to school if he's not retaining the knowledge. He wast startled out of his thoughts by a snort. He once again saw Madame Pomfrey's figure in the light, snoring like a damn donkey. Merlin, she was a loud sleeper.

Draco heard the same light footsteps in the corridor as he had the last night he had stayed in this place. It was her, wasn't it? _Why would she have even come this time? She obviously didn't care about him, as he had previously thought._ "Draco?", he heard her light whisper from across the room. Her whispered shattered the silence, sounding sharp and hurried.

"Merlin, come to punch me again, Granger?", he hissed at her. She dashed over to his bed again.

"I do not regret what I did." she said, speaking very matter-of-factly. _The nerve of this damn girl_.

"Well that's great, Hermione. I'm so happy for you. But I am going to have to ask you to leave now. Madame Pomfrey says I shouldn't be talking to anyone for a few hours because I need to rest my brain." Draco was pissed. _How dare she come in here to tell him she was glad she punched him. Did he call her Hermione? Damn._

"For God's sake Draco, it was a punch to the nose. Get over it." _Oh. She didn't know. This was going to be rich._

"Actually, Granger, your punch sent my head into a rock, giving me a mild concussion. As I said before, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He felt good. _She would feel bad, which she deserved to. She had given him a concussion!_

"Wait, Draco, are you serious? You actually have a concussion?" Her face turned from irritation to disbelief. Draco was starting to get pissed. _Who the hell did she even think she was?!_

"Yes, _Granger,_ you smacked my head into a rock and now I have a concussion. _"_ He said it with conviction, unwilling to meet her warm bronze eyes. Draco started twiddling his thumbs, and she allowed him to for quite some time. Sitting on the edge of his bed, looking down, she started fiddling with a loose thread from the sheets. In those few moments, Draco thought of how they shared the silence. _A Slytherin and a Gryffindor. A boy and a girl. A brunette and a blonde. A pure blood and a mudbloo- a muggle born. If he wanted to get anywhere, he had to stop using that word._ He thought of all the things separating him and Hermione, and found that there were few. Then he thought to their similarities. She was strong-willed, just like him. They both were avid learners, though Draco would never let anyone know that. They loved Hogwarts. They were both magical. And most importantly, they were both in the hospital bed, without torment or pain.

In that small time where no one dared to break the silence, they formed a bond that words could not have built. It was their coexistence. There seemed to be a million obstacles between them, but they could sit there in silence, and just be. If they could sit in the same bed and just be quiet, and simply be, then it meant there was no need for their shared animosity. Draco looked up and met Hermione's thrilling eyes, and in the warm candle light, they looked as if they were full of molten gold. He always had liked his eyes, their silvered color gave an appearance of calm and collectedness. But in that moment, he could only feel as if they were so drab and void of color, compared to her vivid irises. Suddenly. Draco became hyper-aware of Hermione's leg touching his as she sat on the end of his bed, separated from him by only a blanket. His stomach twisted int knots.

Staring into her eyes, Draco felt more connected to Hermione than he had ever felt to anyone before. At that point, though he knew he could have lived infinitely in that shared moment, Draco decided to speak. He hadn't the slightest of what he was going to say, but he would figure it out as he went.

"Listen, Hermione, I-"

"No, Draco. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so impulsive. It was a mistake for me to hav-"

"Hermione, you were right. I was being a git, and got what I deserved." _WHERE IN THE HELL DID THAT COME FROM?_ _Damn, this girl was changing him._ Draco could have sworn he saw Hermione blush, but the orange light could have been playing tricks on his eyes. _More like playing tricks on his heart._ After that profound shared moment, things were at best, awkward. Draco was on unfamiliar ground, and he was sure Hermione didn't go around sneaking out of her dorm to talk to Slytherin boys, so he was sure she wasn't very familiar with the new situation either. It was bizarre, but something about Hermione made Draco okay with it. The silence before hadn't been awkward, it was strangely comfortable. Now that it was over, they were so awkward and shaky. _At least it was better than hostility._

"Well... er... Draco, I am going to go back to my dorm now." He wasn't sure if he had ever heard her speak in such a timid matter. However, he was too engrossed in his thoughts to worry about it. He realized it would be rude to ignore her, so he managed to mutter out some form of a goodnight, though he wasn't paying much attention. As she shifted her weight back onto her feet, Draco was snapped from his thoughts, and simply watched her as she walked away, looking shaken. Draco didn't blame her. _What had just happened?_ The utter abnormality of having a conversation with Hermione, lacking aggression, befuddled him. Draco was unsure of the night's events, but he did know one thing. There was the smallest of chances that he was in love with Hermione Granger, a book loving, peculiar, know-it-all, muggle-born. _What in the hell was he going to do?_

* * *

 **Okay, so I spent a bit more time on this chapter to make it longer, and would love love love any reviews. Thanks for reading! :)**


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